


Art Imitates Life

by deedeeinfj



Category: Parks and Recreation
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-09
Updated: 2013-02-09
Packaged: 2017-11-28 18:19:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/677406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deedeeinfj/pseuds/deedeeinfj
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Leslie doesn't get fanfiction. Ben decides to fix that. Warnings: Gratuitous Fluff, Gratuitous Meta.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Art Imitates Life

“It’s well written, honey, and I liked it. I just don’t  _get_  fanfiction,” Leslie explained, looking over her laptop to see Ben’s disappointed face at the other end of the sofa. She nudged his leg with her toes. “Don’t pout.”

“I’m not pouting. Just thinking.” He stilled her foot with his hand. “There never was a story in a book or a show that you felt like you just had to know more of? Or you wondered what if this had happened instead of that?”

“I guess,” she shrugged, “but it was usually just a quick thought. I never felt like writing it down or reading what other people wrote. If it’s not the person who wrote the story, it would feel too fake for me to enjoy.”

“TV shows have multiple writers,” he pointed out.

“Still. And there’s another thing.” She closed the laptop and slid it onto the coffee table, then stretched her legs so that her feet rested in Ben’s lap. “Isn’t it kind of a waste of time? You don’t get published, you don’t get paid, you’re using time and talent that could’ve been spent on original work. I can see it now: Benjamin Wyatt, New York Times bestselling author.”

They grinned at each other, and Ben laughed. “That’s not the point. See, you post your stories, and then they’re read by other fans like you. And you read  _their_  work. It’s more about enjoying something with a group.”

“I guess,” Leslie said again, only this time it was more of a purr because Ben was rubbing her feet. She gave him a little whimper of protest when he stopped, but then he was moving his body over hers, and that was a nice thing.

“I bet I can change your mind,” he said. His nose was touching hers, and it tickled. “I’m going to write something just for you.”

Leslie raised her knee to cradle his hip. “I want a signed copy.”

“Sure,” he mumbled, his lips against hers. “Whatever you want.”

* * *

Satisfied with the end result, Ben smiled wickedly and printed his story. At the last second, he remembered to scribble his name across the front of it. He looked across the living room to make sure that Jerry’s painting was still leaning against the wall, even though he knew that it was, having carried it there himself only a little while ago. It was facing the room instead of the wall, which wasn’t quite accurate, but then they weren’t in his old house with April and Andy, either. Also, it was… inspirational.

Leslie stepped through the front door right on time, and Ben met her with a kiss. “Allow me,” he said, taking her coat and trading her the printed pages of his story.

She flipped through the pages and laughed. “You were actually serious about this!” She led the way into the living room and stopped in her tracks when she saw the painting. Ben smiled. “What’s this for?” she asked.

“Just setting up the scene,” Ben said. He moved to face her and nodded towards the papers in her hands.

Shaking her head, she looked down to read. She frowned almost immediately. “This is about us,” she said, her tone something between a statement and a question. “ _‘I’m just tired of all these rules lately,’ Leslie told him. Her eyes clearly conveyed the words she could not say. ‘Me too,’ Ben replied, hoping that his face told her as much as hers had told him. It must have, because somehow, the two of them were moving together, and his lips were pressed to hers, and all the rules could go to hell._ ” Leslie stopped reading and looked up at him. “So this is…”

“A what-if," Ben finished for her. "What if April and Andy hadn’t interrupted Ben and Leslie that night? It’s also… well, smut.”

Ben watched her as she read further, her cheeks flushing a sweet pink. Near the bottom of the first page, she smiled and read aloud, “ _She raised his hand to her breast, and he cupped it eagerly. Even though layers of clothes still separated his fingers from her skin, he knew that the painting could never do her justice._  So you did look at it. Or is that just in the story?”

“I totally looked. More than once.”

“I really might have done something, you know,” she confessed. “If they hadn’t come home right then.”

He stepped closer to her. “Me too.”

“I wanted you so badly. Not just  _wanted_  you, like, for sex. I wanted you. Everything. I wanted to be with you.”

Ben silently congratulated himself on his restraint, for only his most practiced self-control kept him from launching himself at her right then and there. Instead, he managed to say, “Keep reading.”

Her eyes lingered on his for a few moments, fell to his mouth for another moment, and then returned to the story. She flipped over to the second page. While she read, he could relish just looking at her, from her blushing cheeks, to her eyes as they moved over the page, to her small smiles that punctuated every few lines.

“If you had been showing me this kind of fanfiction from the beginning, maybe I would have gotten on board a lot faster,” she grinned. Then she paused. “But I’d much rather reading about us—”

“Ben and Leslie,” he corrected.

“Right. I’d much rather read about Ben and Leslie getting it on than anyone else.”

She turned the page and continued reading briefly before interrupting herself again. “So explain to me why  _50 Shades of Crap_  is on the bestseller list, and you’re writing delicious stuff like this? Benjamin Wyatt, writer of sensual erotica. I think I hit the jackpot with you.” They both laughed. “But seriously.”

“Hurry and finish so we can do this thing for real,” he said. He was half-serious, half-joking, and half-horny, and his math skills were obviously abandoning him as well.

Leslie’s blue eyes flashed, and she didn’t stop reading again until the last page was finished, and her autographed Wyatt original was thrown carelessly to the floor.

“God, that was hot,” she said breathlessly, kissing him with the reckless abandon she usually reserved for homemade whipped cream. Ben’s primary objective was to keep them from crashing to the floor. “I liked your ending so much better than the real one.”

Ben couldn’t reply, exactly, with her mouth covering his, but he did manage to say during a second’s pause for breathing, “See?”

“Mmmhmm. Now I’m going to show you my version of what should have happened that night. Let’s call this fanfiction performance art.”

As she proceeded to show him, Ben decided that she could call it whatever she wanted. And, yes, “art” should definitely be in there somewhere.


End file.
